


Things that go bumping in the night

by adorablecrab



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Canon Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 07:12:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18734161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorablecrab/pseuds/adorablecrab
Summary: The wise thing to do would be to silently lock the door and hope whoever was outside wasn’t too determined to get in. Possibly escape through the window...





	Things that go bumping in the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PilferingApples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PilferingApples/gifts).



> This is my first attempt at canon era and at this pairing, please don't judge me.

Jehan Prouvaire blinked in the darkness of his chambers, uncertain as to what had disturbed his sleep. He turned, covering his head with the blanket, determined to resume his dreams. After a moment he sat up, heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t certain if it were a noise or just a feeling, but he knew he wasn’t mistaken.

There was someone in the other room.

A sound like a piece of furniture being knocked over made him jump. The wise thing to do would be to silently lock the door and hope whoever was outside wasn’t too determined to get in. Possibly escape through the window... 

He rose, grabbed the heavy candlestick he kept by his bedside table and, brandshing it above his head, walked towards the door.

He could see relatively well thanks to the light of the full moon coming through the large windows. There was no sign of movement, but there was a sound, rhythmic and low, like the breathing of very large lungs. He felt every hair on his body stand on end.

He could still make it back to the bedroom…

“Who is there?” he asked, a lot more confidence in his voice than he actually felt.

There was no answer but that noise. He breathed deeply and crossed the doorway to the living room, ready to throw the candlestick at any sign of movement…

And realized too late that the source of the noise was right behind him.

He turned, and it took his brain a moment to comprehend what he was seeing. 

It was massive. It had the head of a wolf but stood against the wall on two legs like a bear, dark fur and white fangs shining in the moonlight. It seemed very, very scared, pressing against the wall as if trying to make itself smaller. And it was wearing human clothes. 

There was a werewolf in his living room.

In his shock Jehan let the candlestick fall to the floor, and that seemed to shake the creature out of its attempts to fuse with the wallpaper. It leapt and, as a reflection, Jehan dropped to the floor, curling into a ball on the carpet. The creature was clearly not trying to attack, just put more distance between them by darting to the other end of the room. Still, it managed to gash at the sleeve of Jehan’s nightshirt with sharp claws.

Once the creature was trying to hide rather ineffectively in the space between the side of the couch and the wall, after knocking down the table and a bookshelf on its way, Jehan stood up hastily and made it for the door. But as soon as he touched the handle the creature whimpered.

It was a long, pitiful sound, and against his better judgement Jehan stopped and looked behind him. 

The creature had its head lowered to the floor like a guilty puppy, staring at him with intelligent yellow eyes, clearly trying to appear non threatening. If it was as intelligent as it seemed, it could be a trick. He wasn’t entirely sure of how much of their human intelligence werewolves maintained, he had never met one and all the reports he’d read tended to contradict each other.

“Who are you?” Jehan asked, curiosity starting to give place to his initial shock.

The wolf started to move out from its hiding place, without raising its head from its submissive stance. Jehan startled.

“Stay where you are!” he yelled, picking up the candlestick he had dropped and holding it in front of himself as one would hold a sword.

The wolf gave him what was clearly an unimpressed look, but obeyed, retreating back against the wall. Jehan almost smiled. It could clearly understand him.

“Very well,” he said, inching closer to the door and resting one hand on the knob, so he could flee if the creature made any sign that it was about to attack. “You may approach.”

The wolf moved slowly towards the center of the room, where the light was brighter, walking on all fours like a dog. It sat down on its hind legs, eyes never leaving Jehan’s face, and waited.

Jehan’s mouth fell open. He would recognize that waistcoat anywhere. 

“Bahorel?”

The wolf wagged its tail and puffed up its chest in a gesture that was, well, entirely human. Entirely Bahorel.

Jehan smiled in amazement, then felt his face flush. Really, in a time like this! He was lucky it was probably too dark for Bahorel to see it.

Wasn’t there something about dogs not being able to see color?

The wolf stood and started to move forward slowly, and Jehan had the impulse to run, as anyone would at the sight of a creature almost as tall as he was while standing on four legs. 

But it was looking at him through Bahorel’s eyes. Carefully, Jehan offered him a hand.

The wolf continued to approached slowly and stopped a breath away from his extended hand. I red tongue darted out and brushed the tips of his fingers, before it closed its eyes and inched forward, letting Jehan’s fingers run through the thick, surprisingly soft fur of its forehead.

Jehan let out a nervous laughter and scratched the creature behind the years as it wagged its tail and sat down in front of him.

“You know, I better be the first to know about this, or else I’ll feel very betrayed.”

The wolf whimpered. Jehan chuckled. Naturally some of the others must know, must help him through transformations. Vampires, shapeshifters, mediums… and now a werewolf. He wondered how many more in his newly found family would turn out to be Creatures of the Night.

“I suppose that’s understandable,” Jehan said, sitting down on the carpet as the wolf laid down. He immediately laid a massive head on his lap and Jehan smiled with adoration at this magnificent creature with the softest fur he’d ever felt… 

And who was indeed his friend. Who he’d been in love with practically since the first time he’d heard him laugh. And who now seemed to be falling asleep on his lap.

“You better not drool on me.”

The wolf growled and raised its head, nuzzling on Jehan’s chest and effectively pushing him until he was lying on the carpet, and laid down beside him, massive warm body pressed to his. 

“Well,” Jehan huffed, propping his head up on one hand while gently caressing the creature’s head with the other. “I suppose you can stay the night.”

\--

He woke up when he felt the warmth by his side disappear. The wolf now stood a few steps away, growling and shaking its head, back arched as if it were in pain. For a heartbeat Jehan thought that maybe it had been hurt and he had failed to notice, but sunlight was starting to peer through the window, and he understood.

He watched in awe, trying to convince himself to turn away and give him privacy, for this seemed a strangely intimate thing, but just couldn’t take his eyes away as the wolf’s body twisted and shrinked, the fur cleared away and paws gave way to fingers. It seemed painful, although strangely quiet, and in a few moments Bahorel was panting in the middle of his room, hands and knees on the floor.

“Are you alright?” Jehan whispered, when he finally managed to find his voice.

Bahorel raised his head startled, looking around the room in confusion, before his eyes focused on him.

“Jehan,” he breathed.

“Hi,” Jehan whispered as Bahorel took in the chaos of the room they were him, with the upturned furniture and broken plant pots, the broken window from which, Jehan just now realized, he must had gotten in the night before.

Bahorel watched him for a long moment, his hair wild and lose and his moustache lacking the pomade that gave it shape. He seemed tired and so very handsome in this dishevelled state. His clothes were too large for him, and Jehan had to smile. Of course Bahorel would have a waistcoat he could wear during the full moon made in his preferred shade of red. 

“I’m sorry,” Bahorel whispered, looking so dejected Jehan stood up and crossed the small distance between them. “Did I hurt you?”

He grabbed Jehan’s arm, lifting the torn up sleeve of his nightshirt to reveal the thin red gashes on his skin underneath. Jehan had completely forgotten about them.

“It’s nothing,” he said, kneeling in front of Bahorel, who immediately tried to put more distance between them. “You were scared and I cornered you, you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, as Jehan raised a hand to touch his shoulder. He leaned forward slowly until his head was resting on Jehan’s shoulder. Jehan wrapped his arms around his neck and shoulders, running his fingers through his long hair.

“Don’t you remember anything?”

“Not much before you said my name,” he answered, his beard tickling Jehan’s neck.

“You don’t know why you were here?”

Bahorel chuckled and raised his head, and the mischievous look in his eyes made Jehan’s heart beat just a little faster. “I try to be prudent - I do!” he added when Jehan laughed. “But the wolf wants what it wants.” He took both of Jehan’s hands in his, squeezing his fingers lightly. “I suppose it came here because it wanted to be with you. As do I.”

Jehan Prouvaire, poet, polyglot, suddenly couldn’t find a single word to say while his heart burst with so much happiness it almost hurt. Bahorel seemed to take his silence for rejection though, because he looked down at their hands and smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry I frightened you, my friend,” he started to stand up, letting go of Jehan’s hands. “I understand if-”

Jehan tightened his hold on his hands and Bahorel made no effort to resist being pulled back down.

“You always know where to find me,” he said, to which Bahorel’s smile widened. “I’m not afraid of you.” When Bahorel didn’t seem convinced, he went on: “When I first came to Paris, I tracked down and followed Combeferre around for weeks because I wanted to meet a vampire.” Bahorel chuckled and Jehan fred one hand from his grasp and brought it to cup his face. “You surprised me, of course, but I could never be afraid of you.”

Bahorel shifted his head to kiss the edge of his palm. “Werewolves are a little bigger than vampires.”

“Only during the full moon,” Jehan shrugged. “Besides, I know its name.”

“That you do,” Bahorel whispered, and Jehan hadn’t realize how close they had become. He could feel Bahorel’s breath on his face and was reminded of all the times he wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

Bahorel smiled as if he knew.

He leaned forward slowly and kissed Jehan on the neck, and he was suddenly very aware that he was wearing nothing but a nightshirt. He closed his eyes when one of Bahorel’s hands came to rest on the back of his neck and another kiss was planted on the edge of his jaw.

With no time to react, Jehan suddenly found himself wrapped in Bahorel’s arms, and yelped while being gracelessly pushed into the floor.

“Brute,” he scoffed. Bahorel laughed, warm breath on Jehan’s neck and his entire body wrapped around his.

“I’m going to be hungry when I wake up,” he whispered. “You can pay for lunch and we’ll talk about… whatever this is.”

“You know I have a bed right through there.” 

As if to make a point, Bahorel wrapped his arms tighter around him, and flung one leg over his for good measure.

“My friend, if you want me to go anywhere,” he punctuated with a kiss to the corner of Jehan’s mouth. “I’m afraid you’ll have to carry me.”


End file.
